The Scandalous Alliance
by LadyHallows
Summary: Lady Cecily Devereux, the ward of her ambitious Uncle, is to ensnare the love of the King from his wife, Queen Anne Boleyn, to earn their family royal favour. Yet little does her Uncle know that Cecily is a woman with a scheming mind and ambitions of her own, finding it within her own best interest to instead become the ally of the Queen Consort. Will this ending be in bloodshed?


**The Scandalous Alliance**

 **Description:**

 _Lady Cecily Devereux, the ward of her ambitious Uncle, is to ensnare the love of the King from his wife, Queen Anne Boleyn, to earn their family royal favour. Yet little does her Uncle know that Cecily is a woman with a scheming mind and ambitions of her own, finding it within her own best interest to instead become the ally of the Queen Consort. And, after witnessing her losing of Henry, the Queen is inclined to agree. Will their alliance spare Anne her fate? Will Cecily go down with her? Is the ending of bloodshed set in stone?_

 **August 31** **st** **1535**

Lady Mary Devereux, formerly Grey, wife of Lord Walter Devereux, 9th Baron Ferrers of Chartley, had never thought much about her young niece. The girl of nine and ten (having been born in 1516) was entrusted into their care at a mere seven years of age, after both of her parents had died. The girl was a younger daughter too, which made Mary think of her even less frequently, as she was not so important, having two elder brothers and one elder sister that survived.

It was only now that she took the time to fully analyse the young girl.

She looked a lot like her mother, Mary knew, she could see Mademoiselle Isabelle de Lorraine in the young girl's high cheekbones, slightly chubby cheeks, small nose, eyes that seemed undecided between green and blue as well as the curled blonde hair that had often made Mary envious of the only daughter of the Duke of Lorraine, who had given up her chance to marry a Prince, Duke or even a King to marry the man she loved – the third son of a Baron – Sir Richard Devereux, her husband's youngest half-brother.

She could see parts of her deceased brother-in-law within her too, the near porcelain skin, the pouty lips that had caused Richard most teasement from his brothers about such a feminine feature within his youth, and the thickness of said hair.

When one studied the girl at first sight she would seem as if an English Rose, until they analysed such posture and such elegant movements that made her seem almost foreign, and the way the girl danced. That was from her mother, Mary decided, the French woman, not yet nine and twenty when she died of childbed fever after the birth of her second son: Louis.

Francis and Louis, she almost snorted at the chosen names by the over a decade dead Isabelle de Lorraine and Sir Richard Devereux, how very French. One could say that at least the girls names were not so French but Mary, upon visits with her husband to their household, had often heard her call Margaret _Marguerite_ and Cecily _Cecile_.

She supposed that her youngest niece was pretty enough – some may even dare to call her beautiful – but she wondered if she was quite gifted enough to ensnare the King.

King Henry VIII of England may sleep with just about every lady he can along with any female relatives he can but she knew Walter – her husband – wanted Cecily to _keep_ the King. She had never before seen a woman do such a feat, well, except for Anne Boleyn that is. And if the rumours of her using witchcraft were anything to go by then Mary was not surprised.

Lord Walter Devereux came and stood by her as she gracefully sipped at her wine, observing as her nieces, nephews and children came down the stairs, all prepared to go to court. Francis at two and twenty; Margaret at twenty; Cecily at nine and ten; Louis at five and ten of her nieces and nephews, of her own children there was the one and twenty years old Richard Devereux and the seven and ten years old William Devereux.

Her husband would go with them yet she would remain here, looking after the four year old Henry Devereux – her youngest son – no matter how much she missed the Court. Of course Henry had a Governess but a Baronry was not as high as any other title. And thus they did not have the funds available to create a whole household for young Henry.

Especially when Walter had been rapidly spending on gowns for Cecily to ensnare the King and to try to get a high stationed noble interested in the twenty year old Margaret who was – surprisingly – yet to be married off despite numerous proposals of betrothals.

Soon they were all packed and gone, heading away from their home of Chartley Castle, Staffordshire – keeping the grand Castle in good condition was yet another cause for their diminishing funds – and off to the extravagant English Court of Hampton Court Palace.

 **CD-AB-CD-AB-CD-AB-CD**

 **Hampton Court Palace, East Molesey**

 **September 1** **st** **1535**

Queen Anne Boleyn bid tears from her eyes as she sat upon a seat by the window, all Ladies dismissed but her most trusted, for every moment she felt more fear, every moment she felt more danger near.

She had lost her boy but a day previously, her darling child lost. And she knew well that Henry wanted a son; that she may be put aside – especially with their recent, vicious, arguments in his desperation for a son.

And she was knew that his eye had already landed, perhaps for good, upon her own maid – oh, the irony! She had been tempted to laugh of the problem weren't so severe! – Lady Jane Seymour.

Such affection towards her Lady-In-Waiting drew Anne's terrible temper to the surface. She knew it was her wilfulness, wit and passion that had once drew Henry to her so, therefore why did it not do so anymore? She had once heard Nan Shelton mutter under her breath, "what has he turned you into?"

She was not meant to hear such words, she knew that Nan would be most ashamed if Anne admitted that she had known she had uttered such a phrase, yet the words were spoken of the truth. He was destroying her; destroying her because she loved him so. Destroying her because it had always been Henry and Anne, a force to be reckoned with, now it was but Anne, a dying flame.

"Your new Ladies are here to see you, Your Majesty," Bridget Wingfield – one of Anne's favourites – informed her. Blinking several times Anne nodded for the doors to be opened, standing up to greet the two new Ladies. Anne already had sixty, but she was more than happy to have more. A display of power, for she had far more that her predecessor – Katherine of Aragon, Dowager Princess of Wales – had had. And it seemed that power was all that she could hold onto at the moment.

That and her love for Elizabeth. Her dearest Bess. Oh, how she was at woe to be parted from her own heart; her Princess.

The two Ladies that entered were rather pretty, beautiful perhaps, _I'm sure Henry will sleep with them too_ , Anne couldn't help but think ever so bitterly, _unless he is trying to be loyal to his precious whore._

The first of the two Ladies had eyes cast downwards, bowing ever so shallowly with the grace of the daughter of a Duke, even though Anne knew she was not, her dirty blonde hair was pinned back with an English hood adorning her head, a pale blue dress that complimented her slightly tanned skin upon her.

Yes, Anne decided, the girl is indeed rather pretty.

Yet it was the other Lady that near demanded her attention.

This girl too was pretty – prettier, perhaps, than her sister – with wide bright eyes that boldly never left Anne's face, her plump lips turned up made it near impossible for Anne to decipher whether the younger woman was smiling or smirking; her skin porcelain pale. Yet in this Lady was an elegance and posture to which had been familiar to her whilst she had been within the French Court. She resembled a woman she had once knew to a great likeness, though she knew that Isabelle de Lorraine was a while dead; much to the grief of her older brothers: Antione, Claude, Jean, Louis and François.

"Rise," Anne commanded after but a moment of studying of the girls in front of her.

The two rose side by side, Anne found herself looking curiously still at the second of the two, "and who may you two be?" Anne, of course, knew that they were the nieces of the 9th Baron Ferrers of Chartley, yet could not help to fail to remember their names in her moments of grief.

It was the second woman who spoke first whilst the first hesitated, her voice confident as she introduced, "I am Lady Cecily Devereux, Your Majesty, and this is my older sister, Lady Margaret Devereux."

Anne's eyebrows shot up swiftly at the utterance of 'Devereux', "and your mother was?"

Cecily noticed her use of _was_ , clearly she had known her beloved mother and yet she did not have the time to theorise, as she knew that the Queen would expect a swift reply, "Isabelle de Lorraine, only daughter of the former Duke of Lorraine, Your Majesty, God bless her soul."

"Yes, yes indeed," Anne agreed with Lady Cecily's last comments, for Mademoiselle Isabelle de Lorraine had been a most excellent role model, "Nan will show you where you shall sleep and what your duties will be; I bid you goodnight and hope the two of you will be inclined to join the dance that I have been composing for the arrival of the new French Ambassador."

"Goodnight, Your Majesty."

"Goodnight, Your Majesty."

Cecily Devereux couldn't help but wonder, whilst Lady Anne 'Nan' Shelton lead them to where they would be sleeping, if the Queen would be quite so nice to her when she knew what she was here for; if she would try to sabotage her. It was likely. Many Nobles knew of the Queen's fearsome temper that rivalled that of the King's.

Or perhaps she wouldn't have a reason to be angry.

Cecily near smirked at such a thought, at such an idea in a moment she thought to be ingenious.

The Queen Anne hated the King's mistresses, all were aware of that factor, she hated the King straying; and no doubt worried that one day she would be toppled from her place as Queen as she had done to Katherine of Aragon.

So what if… What if Cecily were to offer Anne a… Alliance of sorts, Cecily supposed, that she would influence the King to still return to his life and not keep an ambition to be his wife and Queen – although Cecily thought she would look awfully good wearing a golden crown – and, in return, Anne would keep his attentions upon Cecily as his only – perhaps _official_ – Mistress and urge the King to noble any children born of the union and her family.

Cecily had never particularly wanted to be a Mistress. She had always wanted to be loved, a wife and a mother, she had even looked down upon Mistresses and yet here she was, thinking ahead on becoming a Mistress to the most powerful man in England.

She was not a fool. She knew her Uncle would disown her – he had all but said so directly to her – should she refuse to be the King's Mistress, so why not take advantage of it? Why not use it to further her own political views? To further her brothers' careers and better her sister's future?

Maybe, just maybe, she could make the most out of giving her virtue to a King.

 **CD-AB-CD-AB-CD-AB-CD**

 **September 6** **th** **1535**

Anne was most pleased that both Lady Margaret and Lady Cecily Devereux were swift learners, for their dance was not short. But both women seemed to do the steps easily and with elegance. Observing the dance had made Anne feel far happier than she had done at any point in the past week. Not to mention the factor that young Princess Elizabeth would be arriving at Court for her birthday celebrations the following day.

The loss of her baby boy had been heart-breaking, seeing Henry parade around Lady Jane Seymour – Anne preferred to call her 'harlot' – as a punishment even more so. Perhaps that is why the dance was what it was. A similar theme to the The Château Vert to which Henry had first seen Anne; she truly hoped that it would bring his love for her to the surface once more.

She, of course, was to play Perseverance once more; Lady Anne 'Nan' Shelton would play Kindness after the disownment of Mary Boleyn; Lady Margaret Devereux would play Honor as the Countess of Devonshire no longer served at Court; Lady Cecily Devereux would play Beauty, which had once belonged to Mary, Dowager Queen of France until her death; Lady Bridget Wingfield would play Bounty; Lady Rochford, Jane Boleyn nee Parker – Anne did not like her sister-in-law but decided to display family loyalty and place her within anyway, the Boleyns could not seem unstable – would play Constancy once more; Lady Anne Gainsford would play Pity; Lady Madge Shelton would be Mercy.

The opposites to the Graces, like Scorn and Envy, too had been picked from Anne's Ladies and Maids of Honour.

Henry had been all too insistent that his 'sweetheart' – Jane – be given a place too, it was the only terms to which he would agree to, he only allowed the dance to go forth at all due to his want to see her new Ladies, Anne knew.

Therefore Anne had made meek Lady Jane Seymour _Lady Distain_ and had forbid them to talk of anyone of their roles as she wanted it to be a surprise. Therefore, unless the obedient girl not a year younger than herself wanted to be unloyal to her Mistress, then she could not tell the King; and therefore he would not change her role.

It was quite the victory to Anne. And, tonight, she was determined that this would be a start to winning Henry back once more.

And, in a way, it would be. Just not in the way that she thought it would be.

 **CD-AB-CD-AB-CD-AB-CD**

The beauty of Court was immense, Cecily Devereux soon realised, the extravagance was simply breath taking. Oh, how she had wished to have seen more of the world than her Uncle's Castle. Her mother had promised that she would send her to the French Court when she was old enough, but her mother died before such a promise could be carried out.

Not to mention the dress. Cecily was said by many to be most peculiar. Intelligent, witty, stubborn yet kind and possessing an adoration for dresses. The white dress that adorned her was simply gorgeous, her golden mask only furthering such finery.

Queen Anne, she would admit, looked the prettiest of them all. Her dark, flowing hair contrasting the white dress beautifully. Many seemed to say that the Queen was not very pretty; but she doubted that many had been abroad to such places where in which the Queen's tanned complexion and dark hair was what was the definition of pretty. Her mother had always told her about her travels to Italy, and of the luscious dark locks of the Lord of Florence's eldest daughter.

Despite not deeming herself the most beautiful there – despite the factor that she was playing the part of _Beauty_ – Lady Cecily Devereux still felt confidence fill her, not to mention determination. For her family she would have to catch the eye of the King; and perhaps even for herself. If she did then she would be able to take her proposition to the Queen, with her backing Cecily could be in it for the longterm. She could hold some influence, save the dissolving monasteries, create more schools for the poor and for girls, oh, she had so many things that she wanted to assist and change!

She could help this world for the better if she did this.

Well, at least that's what she kept on telling herself. That if she was Henry's Mistress then she could make a change, that she was not just doing it for her family but also for herself. For otherwise she would feel as if she were defeated, doing her Uncle's will and losing control of her own life and path.

"Their Graces: Perseverance, Beauty, Honour, Kindness, Bounty, Mercy, Pity and Constancy," the mock 'herald' announced as the three ladies sweeped onto centre stage elegantly, all taking various poses upon the tips of their toes. Ballet poses, Cecily remembered reading of such a dance style, originated from Italy.

The dance came to life after single count of eight, the Queen having put such a dance together most beautifully. She did not want an exact replica of the The Château Vert, but something of most similarity. Therefore it took the form of a dance and mime rather than a play.

It was soon that – dressed in black – the other women entered the stage, twirling in with a swift speed, aggressive motions that were sharp in comparison to The Grace's soft, slow movements.

Each woman whom was dressed in similar attire to women of India – Danger, Scorn, Unkindness, Distain, Strangeness, Malebouche, Disloyalty and Jealousy – each pushed a woman behind them, their cruel and aggressive, hard and sharp dance going forth before the knights began to come forth.

Amorous, Nobleness, Youth, Attendance, Loyalty, Pleasure, Gentleness and Liberty she knew were the Knights names. Her Uncle had also informed her that King Henry VIII had insisted upon being among them once more. He was Amorous last time; and Cecily could easily speculate that he would resume such a role.

Each Knight approached a dancing duo, to Cecily's disappointment _Amorous_ veered left to dance with _Lady Perseverance_ and _Distain_ ; Queen Anne and the Lady Jane Seymour.

She, meanwhile, had _Pleasure_ approach her, almost scoffing when the man smirked as he twirled her. Men truly only thought with what was between their legs, she theorised. At last, after several lifts, all were to be unmasked.

She felt the mask shift off of her face as she looked down the rows to see the King glaring at Anne Boleyn with a passion, clearly not having enjoyed her treatment of JaneSeymour, whereas Queen Anne looked upon him with determination.

She pitied the Queen, to be so blinded by love.

"Lady Beauty," the voice of her partner called. The man whom had played the part of _Pleasure_ was very handsome indeed, yet utterly arrogant looking with a smirk below his high cheekbones and impossibly sharp jaw line, perhaps a man her and her sister might have gossiped over where Cecily not spending her time either attending to the Queen or plotting, "may I say that you shine line the sun upon a-,"

"No, you may not," Cecily cut across. She knew it was rude of her – oh, how her Governess would have hit her for such a comment to a Nobleman! – but she mustn't seem to enjoy or encourage the attention of any man at such a stage, for even now it would be used against her should she successfully get the King's attention.

The two circled one another as the dance required, the man's steely grey eyes locking with her own in such a way that she knew it was his own was to woo her, and she did not care for it, "my name is Henry Brandon."

"I never asked," Lady Cecily Devereux informed him. Normally, she would not dare say such things to a Nobleman but after he did nothing of her rude slip-up earlier she doubted he would to her words now, and she was much more comfortable with the freedom of speech, "you're a feisty little thing aren't you? I'll have you know I'm the King's nephew."

"I'm not that short, Your Grace," Cecily stated, deciding to add on the 'Your Grace' part after the man's revilement. She could not afford to have the King's own nephew complaining to him before she had even met Henry Tudor, it would do her no good to give him such an impression.

It seemed as though Cecily was in luck. For soon she changed partners from the rude and arrogant Henry Brandon – though she supposed that she had matched him on the rude part – to another partner, a man that she did not recognise the name of but that he was one of the sons of the Duke of Norfolk, and then to the King.

He was not in the best of moods when he was dancing with her, clearly still upset at the Queen's early actions. A thousand ways of which she could act in such a conversation flew through her head, "how come you are not feeling merry, Your Majesty?"

The King's distance gaze snapped to hers, and Cecily was tempted to cheer out in victory when he gave her a once over, hopefully her Uncle will have seen the King's interest and lay off of the 'you must get the King's attention' speeches for several days.

The look wasn't much, yet it was still a start.

"I will be now that I am dancing with you, Lady Beauty," this time Lady Cecily Devereux chose to smile coyly up at him, something between a smirk and a smile upon her lips – a look that Henry could not decipher – while she was span by the King of England.

The King could not deny that this woman was pretty, if not beautiful, but he would not hurt his sweet Jane, or, at least, he would try not to and such an act of unfaithfulness may hurt her so. But he was more than content to look at her, feel as the mystery about such a woman grew, and could not help but feel lust.

Along with Anne's glare upon him. Her disapproval – anybody's disapproval – only made him want the person more.

"And what may your name be, My Lady Beauty?" He inquired, moving closer to her. Perhaps Jane would not be too upset if he told her of his intentions first, that it would mean nothing but that he is a man and has a right to take Mistressess.

Perhaps it will give her a chance to display more dignity than Anne.

"I am Lady Cecily Devereux, Your Majesty."

 **Hi guys, I really hope you like it because I am loving writing this book :) I can't wait to develop Cecily and Anne's characters – Cecily Devereux and Anne Boleyn will be the main characters who I will switch between – and I really hope that you'll favourite and follow as well as review to tell me what you thought of this new book!**

 **Btw, I hope to get a new chapter of The Second Tudor King out tomorrow or Saturday!**

 **Have a great day/night,**

 **iConfunded**


End file.
